


Aw, stomach, no

by WheelsUpIn_Five



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: ?? - Freeform, ?? look idk anymore, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Clint Barton, Sickfic, Vomiting, clint is doing his best, phils a good boyfriend, steve is like briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WheelsUpIn_Five/pseuds/WheelsUpIn_Five
Summary: Clint’s stomach lurched when the lift stopped causing him to grip the railing a little tighter. He swallowed hard and followed Coulson into his office. It was always relatively tidy, his desk organized neatly and shelves stacked with books and collectables, it was almost looked too clean to have someone occupying it. Carefully Clint closed the door behind him,  not wanting to add to the pain in his head.Man I would kill for some advil right now.“Clint, I was hoping that you would-” he paused, tilting his head slightly “Are you okay? You don’t look too good,” Clint opened his mouth to speak but quickly clamped his hand down over it, looking rather panicked before throwing up into the trash. He gagged again, giving Coulson the thumbs up.





	Aw, stomach, no

Everything was too bright. Clint squinted, trying to minimize the light that assaulted his eyes; it felt like someone was shining a laser directly into them. He mentally cursed the compound for having so many windows, as he entered the elevator, sighing gratefully when he saw it was empty - he really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Normally he would’ve take the stairs, but in full honesty, he’s surprised he’s it this far into the compound without collapsing.

“Training center,” his voice was rough, and his throat felt like sandpaper.

“Access gra-” he took out his hearing aids and shoved them into his pocket - it felt like everything was yelling at him, it was all too loud and everything  _ hurt. _ His joints ached, head throbbed, and stomach turned, he didn’t get sick often but when he did, it was like going through hell and back and he  _ did not _ enjoy it. The railings were cool against his skin but they soon warmed up, ridding him of any relief they offered. The doors opened and he got out, not paying any attention to the trainees who were warming up, and headed straight to the shooting range. He had grabbed his gear and had started taking practice shots when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He spun around to face whoever touched him, drawing his bow in the process, only to find it was Phil Coulson behind him, not looking even remotely fazed, while several of the students looked absolutely horrified.  When your reflexes are that deeply ingrained, it doesn’t matter how terrible you feel or what the chance of you actually being attacked is, you just act without a second thought because that's what keeps you alive.

“Agent Barton,” Clint lowered he weapon slowly, feeling slightly guilty for almost shooting his boyfriend and put his hearing aids back in, flinching at the sudden noise. 

“Sir,” Clint replied, running one of his hands through his hair.

“I needed you in my office five minutes ago, Agent,” Clint hung his head “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Coulson crossed his arms.

“Sorry Sir,” he put his bow back onto it’s rack and followed him out of the room, the students had already started quietly talking among themselves. 

 

Clint’s stomach lurched when the lift stopped causing him to grip the railing a little tighter. He swallowed hard and  followed Coulson into his office. It was always relatively tidy, his desk organized neatly and shelves stacked with books and collectables, it was almost looked too clean to have someone occupying it. Carefully Clint closed the door behind him,  not wanting to add to the pain in his head.

_ Man I would kill for some advil right now. _

“Clint, I was hoping that you would-” he paused, tilting his head slightly “Are you okay? You don’t look too good,” Clint opened his mouth to speak but quickly clamped his hand down over it, looking rather panicked before throwing up into the trash. He gagged again, giving Coulson the thumbs up. 

“Don’t ever try and tell me you’re okay when you’re throwing up in my trash again,” he rubbed Clint’s back and pushed his hair back off his forehead, taking note of how warm he was. Clint lent against the wall panting, trying to catch his breath. He had wrapped one arm around his stomach and slid onto the floor with his eyes closed. Phil sat down next to him, rubbing his back as Clint hunched over the bin again. 

“Aw, stomach, no,” Clint mumbled as he tilted his head back, resting it against the wall. Coulson gently wiped the tears from Clint’s face. Never had he seen Clint get even a little sick, so this was a bit concerning. Clint groaned and pushed the bin away from him.

“Sorry, what was it you wanted me to do,” he lent into Phil’s hand, savoring the coolness of it. “You mentioned something about teaching the kids in the shooting range the other day? I can do that,” he slowly stood up despite Coulson’s protests.

“No Clint, you need to go to medical,” he just shook his head, he hated medical with every fiber of his being, nothing good ever happened there. Opening the door, a few students jumped back, they were probably trying to listen to what was happening. He stumbled a bit, his legs struggling to keep him up right but Coulson steadied him.

“That’s an order Agent Barton.” Clint stopped and took a deep breath.

“Yes, Sir,” Coulson waved the students away before turning to Clint again - he really did look terrible. He was slightly flushed due to the fever, it also looked as though he hadn’t had a good night's sleep in a few days and he still had a few tears drying on his cheeks. 

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” 

 

Clint woke up in a dimly lit room with a needle in the back of his hand and an agent at the end of his bed, who was looking through what seemed to be a car magazine. 

“Phil,” his voice was still rough but his throat didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did before. He shifted so he was propped up, leaning on his arm, the other man looked up, slightly startled.

“Hey,” he got up and sat on the edge of the bed, holding Clint’s needle free hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb “Feeling any better?” Clint hummed in response.

“Yeah, my head feels a lot better and I think I’m a little less puke-y,” he reached for his hearing aids that sat on the table next to him and put them in. The room was pretty quiet, he could hear footsteps and a muffled conversation outside, he wondered how long he’d been out. 

“I don’t remember coming here,” Phil huffed, kissing the back of his hand.

“You collapsed on your way in. You're lucky a strong handsome man was there to carry you in.”

“Steve carried me?”  Clint gave him a lopsided smile

“Yeah, he’s not as handsome as you though.” Phil mumbled, ducking his head, a blush spreading over his cheeks. “You should probably try and get some more sleep.” He stood up.

“Stay? Please?” Clint asked quietly. He knew it probably made him look weak but he didn’t want to be alone, he’d never admit it, but he was scared.  Phil pressed a kiss to his forehead and pulled a chair up next to the bed.

“I wouldn’t think of leaving.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! thank you for reading!  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @wheelsupin-five feel free to say hi and/or send in requests


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